


With You In My Head

by astrangecupoftea



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Humor, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Big Brother Bellamy, Bisexual Octavia Blake, Coffee, Coffee Shops, F/F, F/M, Light Angst, M/M, Med Student Clarke, Multi, Sassy Raven
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 02:59:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7024705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangecupoftea/pseuds/astrangecupoftea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Sometimes the wrong choices bring us to the right places.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The slightly 'Friends'-inspired Coffee Shop AU literally no one asked for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With You In My Head

**Author's Note:**

> If this reminds you a little bit of ‘Friends’, it’s not a coincidence. I wrote this because I have terrible writer's block and also I am the absolute worst?

  
  
  
  
  
Nearly every day is the same for Clarke Griffin, and most of the time she likes it that way.  
  
The morning starts out usually the same. She wakes up at 8AM, because she doesn’t have an opening shift today. She goes for a run and comes home, makes coffee for her and Octavia, her roommate, who will rise from the dead approximately an hour after she does and stumble into the kitchen, bleary eyed.  
  
“Coffee,” she grumbles, and holds out her hand for a perfectly brewed cup of glorious caffeine.  
  
It should be perfect, that is literally Clarke’s job – a job her mother absolutely despises, and will call her to complain about some time throughout the morning.  
  
Clarke will answer when she calls, because she knows what to expect but she loves her mom anyway.  
  
“Clarke, when are you going to get your ass in gear and go to school?” she will say.  
  
“I’m not sure how many times I’ve told you, I needed a year off,” Clarke will calmly reply, because she’s fortunate enough to be able to afford an apartment and to afford taking a year off at all. She’s not ungrateful enough to believe her barista job is in any way paying her mother back for the Griffin Gap Year of Greatness – named by Bellamy, obviously – but at least she’s not lounging around on her ass, eating Cheetos and watching re-runs of ‘The Golden Girls.’  
  
“A year is a long time when you’re going into pre-med, Clarke. A year is just the beginning. Do you want to be 35, still in your residency?” her mom insists, and she quietly listens because this woman is her mom, but she is also Dr. Abby Griffin, Director of Cardio-thoracic surgery at Arkadia Memorial Hospital. “I only have so much say here, Clarke.”  
  
Clarke takes a sip of her coffee, burning her tongue but way too used to it by now.  
  
“I told you I didn’t want any favors, mom. I’ve already been accepted, I can do the rest on my own.”  
  
“I beg to differ…”  
  
The conversations ends how it usually does, with Clarke assuring her mom she’ll stop by the hospital sometime this week for lunch – which inevitably always turns into another lecture.  
  
It’s not that she doesn’t want to go to school – she does. She feels weird seeing all her friends posting on Facebook about being in fraternities and sororities, and seeing Octavia stressing about exams and tests… and she can’t relate. She’s been on the road to medical school since birth and for the most part, she was okay with it. Until she discovered her own creativity and applied for a prestigious art school behind her mother’s back and was accepted.  
  
She was also accepted to Arkadia University, the top school for medicine and science on the West Coast. But of course she was, because she worked her fucking ass off and took an extra college prep course every summer, and she had to beg her mom to let her go to summer camp with Bellamy and Octavia before senior year. Even when she was allowed to go, she had to take her laptop with her and do an online course two days of the week.  
  
Clarke doesn’t blame her mom, because she knows she’s lucky enough to have the opportunities she does, and she’s glad she has options. She just wanted a year off to decide which of those options she really wants to go with.  
  
Octavia and her have breakfast, and then she leaves for class sometime around 10, and Clarke settles down on the fire escape and sketches the clock tower right in her line of sight on the university campus – everything perfect except for the face of the clock, which she draws with crooked numbers and jagged hands that look like they’re moving much too fast.  


* * *

  
  
  
Clarke starts her shift at 2 o’clock, and the first thing she does is put on three huge pots of a robust, highly caffeinated roast to prepare for the rush of students coming in after class.  
  
Anya comes out of the back room with a covered cake platter piled high with slices of cake; coffee, banana and lemon loaf. She places it on the counter beside the till and wipes her hands on the red apron tied around her waist.  
  
“Those should be gone within the hour, but I have three more loaves baking in the back just in case,” she says, plucking a slice of banana bread out and breaking off half, handing it to Clarke. “I added something; let me know if you can tell.”  
  
Clarke puts down the cloth she was wiping the bar off with and takes the baked good, thoughtfully biting into it.  
  
“Oh my god, Anya,” she moans, devouring the rest of it in a single bite. “That’s amazing. Uh, is it… I don’t know, nutmeg?”  
  
“Yes!” she laughs. “It totally is nutmeg. This is why I keep you around, you’re a great guinea pig.”  
  
“That’s the only reason?” Clarke says, switching out a full pot for an empty one and continuing brewing.  
  
Anya is the owner of ‘The Great Ground’, inarguably the best coffee shop on campus - seriously. It’s so good that when a Starbucks opened two blocks down, the students actually protested and forced it to close; a big deal, especially in Washington State.  
  
“No, not just that – you’re cute, you bring in customers.”  
  
Clarke feigns surprise and hits Anya with a cloth as she laughs, and is about to respond when the bell above the door jingles and a booming voice calls out.  
  
“ _Give me some of that good shit, Princess_!”  
  
“And so it begins...” Anya says, rolling her eyes with a good-natured smile as Clarke comes out from behind the counter.  
  
“God, Bell, would you quiet down?” Octavia says, sitting down in her usual spot, a high-back orange chair, rubbing the bridge of her nose like the very existence of her brother gives her a migraine.  
  
“I think by now Clarke expects this,” Monty says, flopping down on the couch and putting his backpack beside him.  
  
“I do. It doesn’t make it any easier, but I do,” Clarke replies, not bothering to take her pencil and pad of paper out of her apron. “I’m assuming the usual?”  
  
“Hell yes. And a slice of whatever is on the counter over there, it smells stupendous,” Bellamy insists, shoving Monty a bit as he sits down beside him. “Anya, what _is_ that _delightful_ smell? Blueberry? Poppy seed?”  
  
“It’s ‘Stop-Trying-It’s-Not-Going-To-Happen’ Pie,” Anya says back, pausing in the middle of taking someone’s order at the counter.  
  
“Where’s Rae and Jasper?” Clarke asks, making her way back over to the bar.  
  
“They’re running late, something about the Prof and a fire.”  
  
“They’re in Bioengineering. That story could go anywhere from a coat catching on fire to a campus evacuation,” Octavia says.  
  
As if on cue, Raven and Jasper burst through the door, talking a mile a minute. Clarke catches something about a toupee, a water bottle and sodium between making Octavia’s skinny soy latte and Monty’s flat white.  
  
“… And then the whole thing just caught on fire! _Poof!_ ” Jasper yells, waving his hands wildly.  
  
“It was sad, but also the funniest thing I’ve ever seen?” Raven tacks on, helping Clarke take mugs off her tray of drinks as she steps down the single stair into the seating area almost always taken by her lovably annoying group of idiots.  
  
“That is _so_ sad,” Octavia says, a hand to her chest. “I can’t believe you assholes didn’t even help him.”  
  
“There was nothing we could really _do_. He threw it off his head and started stomping on it.”  
  
“Rae, I would think you’d be a little more sympathetic!”  
  
“Why _me_?! I don’t wear a toupee, I can’t really relate to him.”  
  
Bellamy speaks around a bite of lemon loaf. “Because girls have soft little feelings and kind, gentle souls.”  
  
Raven snorts. “Gentle, my soul is not.”  
  
“I think it is, Rae. That’s why I love you so much,” Octavia says, smiling warmly at her.  
  
Clarke winces - terrible choice of words. She puts a hand on Raven’s shoulder, who gives her a withering look in response. She claims not to be a big softie, but in moments like this where the girl she loves unknowingly wails on her heartstrings, inside she’s as gentle as a god damn kitten.  
  
Clarke is just putting the last drink down in front of Raven when she walks through the door.  
  
2:45PM, almost exactly, every day – today, she has on an Arkadia t-shirt, fitted jeans and Doc’s. Her hair is loosely braided with pieces falling all around her face, and she pushes her glasses up with the back of her hand when she adjusts her messenger bag. She chooses the same table and puts her books down on it, right by the window with her chair facing out at the rest of the café – Clarke knows now it’s because she likes to people watch, and she can observe both outside and inside at the same time.  
  
Of course, she only knows this from watching the girl herself - but not in a creepy way or anything… obviously.  
  
Clarke makes herself available behind the counter when she comes up, and when she sees her at the register a crooked little smile plays at the corner of her mouth.  
  
“Good afternoon, Lexa,” she says, trying not to sound too chipper.  
  
“Good afternoon, Clarke,” Lexa replies, tilting her head slightly toward the girl.  
  
“The usual?”  
  
Clarke can feel herself excitedly fidgeting a bit, the tip of her Converse tapping the floor in quick motions.  
  
“Yes,” she says, pulling a five dollar bill out of her wallet.  
  
Clarke rings her order through, charging her for a small even though she always gets a large. Anya is fully aware of this; in fact, it was her idea.  
  
The coffee is $2.25, and Lexa takes her change and immediately puts it into the tip jar like she does every day.  
  
Clarke makes quick work of the drink, her brain going on autopilot, topping the coffee with the sprinkle of cinnamon that they’re known for, and calls out the order.  
  
“Hazelnut latte?”  
  
“Thank you, Clarke,” she says, and carefully grabs the hot mug from the counter, sending her a small smile before heading back to her table.  
  
And that’s it. That’s the extent of their conversation.  
  
Except today Lexa stops, turns around and says,  
  
“You look lovely today.”  
  
Clarke pauses, like she’s not sure she actually meant to say it to her, and before she can formulate a response Lexa is at her table, her laptop opened as she takes an intent sip of her drink.

 

* * *

 

 

  
“I think you should make some kind of hazelnut cake.”  
  
Anya scrunches her nose, throwing her jacket on.  
  
“ _Hazelnut cake_? What made you think of that?”  
  
Clarke finishes wiping down a table and tries to think of an excuse.  
  
“Because hazelnut is a popular flavor?” she tries.  
  
“Oh, I see,” Anya says. “It’s because of Lexa.”  
  
Clarke stays silent.  
  
“You know she’s like, the only person who orders a hazelnut latte? We actually don’t even have a hazelnut latte on the menu, she asked for one and you just made it up.”  
  
“So?”  
  
Anya debates for a moment, probably working out ingredients and measurements.  
  
“I guess I can try it out. But you’re going to be my taste tester - good or bad, you’re eating it.”  
  
“I suppose I’ll suffer the consequences.”  
  
“Good. I’m out of here; I’ve been up since 6AM. Call me if the place is burning down, otherwise you can handle it,” Anya says, the door jingling signaling her exit.  
  
Clarke bobs her head to the music, happy to be able to take a moment to herself. The café closes at 9:30, meaning she had about half an hour left to go - the last customer had left a little bit before 9.  
  
Getting a head start on her closing duties, Clarke picked up from where Anya had left off, thankfully all the hard parts being done for her already. She wiped down the machines, poured the old coffee down the drain and washed the pots, putting them on drying racks.  
  
Somewhere in between putting the paninis and wraps into the fridge and wiping down the counter top, the door jingled.  
  
“Lexa… Uh - hi?” Clarke stumbles over her words, tucking a loose hair behind her ear.  
  
Lexa looks a bit frazzled and apologetic.  
  
“Hello, Clarke… I’m very sorry; I know you’re about to close so I’ll be quick. I think I forgot my phone earlier?”  
  
“No worries. Do you need help looking for…?” Clarke starts. “Never mind.”  
  
Lexa quickly bends down by her table as she speaks and plucks something off of the ground, triumphantly holding it up. For a second, Clarke wonders exactly when she started calling it _her_ table.  
  
“I missed dinner at the hall because of this stupid thing,” Lexa says, glaring at the offending item in her hands.  
  
“You haven’t eaten?” Clarke says, already opening the fridge. “Take your pick – sandwich or wrap?”  
  
Lexa silently blinks at her, and then looks at the clock above the counter.  
  
“I can’t, but thank you. It’s already past your closing time.”  
  
“It’s fine, I’ll be here until 10 o’clock finishing up anyway,” Clarke insists, but Lexa shifts on her feet a bit, unconvinced. “You can eat while I count the till. Seriously, Lexa, it’s _okay_.”  
  
“I’ll take a sandwich, then. Whichever, it doesn’t matter,” she finally concedes, pulling out her wallet.  
  
“Don’t worry about it, it’s on me.”  
  
“No. I will pay for it, thank you though,” she says, holding out a bill.  
  
“The till is already closed, sorry.”  
  
Lexa’s brows furrow. “You just said you had to count it?”  
  
Clarke grabs a chicken pesto sandwich and places it on a plate on the countertop, along with a bottle of water and a bag of chips. “Yeah, which means the till is closed. Them’s the breaks, kid.”  
  
Lexa sighs hard through her nose, and Clarke might actually think she was mad if it weren’t for the slight upturn of her lips. She sits down at the stool in front of the food, and with a quick look at Clarke, starts eating.  
  
The only sounds in the café are of soft music and change clinking, and every once in a while she looks up to make sure Lexa is even still there – she’s remarkably quiet. Every time Clarke looks up she's looking at her, and it makes her heart flutter and her skin prickle.  
  
“Do you go to school at Arkadia?” Lexa quietly asks, swallowing before speaking.  
  
“Not yet. I think.”  
  
“You _think_?”  
  
Clarke finishes counting the bills and then closes the register with a sigh. “It’s... complicated.”  
  
“Very cliché of you,” she jokes.  
  
“Yeah, I know. I’m taking this year off to decide. I got accepted here, and at another school. I just... don’t know which one I want to go with.”  
  
“It seems like all of your friends go to school here… this other school must be something if you’re considering leaving them.”  
  
“Yeah, the school is amazing… it’s more about what I’d be going there _for_ ,” she clarifies, wondering why talking about this to a girl she barely knows is easier than it’s ever been talking to her friends and family about it. “My mother wants me to stay here, go into medicine. It’s not a bad option, definitely not my last choice and I wouldn’t be unhappy but…”  
  
“But the other school would make you happier?”  
  
“I’m not sure. Everything I know is here. I love my friends, I love my family and I love my job. I’m just terrified that the other option isn’t right for me. You know?”  
  
“Yes, I can relate.”  
  
“I just don’t want staying here to be the wrong choice.”  
  
Lexa doesn’t respond right away, something Clarke has noticed about her – like she’s thinking through every word very carefully. She looks at her for a long moment before responding.  
  
“Is this other school very far away?”  
  
She nods and chews on the corner of her lip. “It’s on the other side of the country.”  
  
“Hmm…”  
  
Clarke finishes closing down the register quicker than she expected. Lexa isn’t done yet, so she purposely goes through the rest of her tasks at a leisurely pace.  
  
“I should get going. I have some homework to finish,” Lexa abruptly says, getting up from her seat. “Thank you. That was very nice of you to do, you didn’t have to.”  
  
“It was nothing, don’t mention it… seriously, don’t. Anya will fire me.” Clarke snorts out a laugh when Lexa’s eyes widen. “I’m just joking,” she rushes out, and her face relaxes a bit.  
  
Lexa walks to the door and turns just before exiting.  
  
“Good night, Clarke.”  
  
“Good night, Lexa.”  
  
The bell jingles, and she’s gone.  
  


* * *

  
  
Clarke almost doesn’t notice it until right before she leaves with her coat on, her bag over her shoulder and all of the lights off except for the ones above the counter.  
  
“Damn it…”  
  
She reaches her hand into the tip jar, and pulls out a neatly folded $20 bill. There’s a note scribbled along the top in perfect penmanship:  
  
_‘Sometimes the wrong choices bring us to the right places.  
  
\- Lexa’_

**Author's Note:**

> I disappeared for a while, please don't hate me. Mainly I have terrible writer's block and this just popped up while I was struggling to write my other story. Which will be updated this week, I promise. Life also got in the way. My birthday is this week and I'm young by normal standards but old by my standards, which is maybe why I tagged this as light angst because my life is light angst at all times.
> 
> I'm rambling now, but I hope you guys enjoyed this. It is most definitely multi-chapter, although I don't know how long it's going to be. Leave me a comment if you feel so inclined, they really, really make my day. <3


End file.
